


falling in love (in a hotel room)

by mandathegreat



Series: Banquet AU [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: (not really) - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Come Eating, Dirty Talk, Fluff and Smut, Grand Prix Final Banquet, Hangover, Humor, Love Confessions, M/M, Making Out, Morning After, Oral Sex, Post-Banquet, Rimming, Sexual Tension, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-09 14:35:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11106591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandathegreat/pseuds/mandathegreat
Summary: What was he going to say to Viktor fucking Nikiforov of all people? Thanks for taking care of my drunk ass? And also did we sleep together? Because it kind of looks like we slept together? Did you like it? Do you want to do it again now that I’m sober? Stop it, Yuuri, oh my god.In which Yuuri wakes up in Viktor’s bed after Sochi, hungover, with no memory, and manages to leave Russia not only as a party legend, but with a boyfriend?





	falling in love (in a hotel room)

**Author's Note:**

> "I think that possibly, maybe I'm falling for you  
> Yes there's a chance that I've fallen quite hard over you.  
> I've seen the paths that your eyes wander down  
> I want to come too  
> No one understands me quite like you do  
> Through all of the shadowy corners of me  
> I think that possibly, maybe I'm falling for you."  
> -Falling in Love (in a coffee shop), by Landon Pigg

The first thing Yuuri noticed when he blinked his eyes open was how pretty the pattern on the hotel ceiling was. Then he noticed that it was spinning. Because he was hungover. So, so hungover. He wanted to move, but there was a weight on his waist keeping him on the soft bed, softer than he remembered his bed being. The weight was warm, and so Yuuri let it keep him there as he tried to piece together what had happened the night before. 

_Oh, right. The banquet._

Yuuri remembered Celestino forcing him into his department store suit, remembered angrily fussing with his blue tie until it fit too snug around his neck, feeling like he was going to suffocate for more reasons than one. He had--well, he had fucked up. Attending the banquet was the last thing he wanted to do, especially because _he_ would be there.

Yuuri felt his heart sink at the thought of his name. He had screwed up so bad, in front of _Viktor_ . And he didn’t even get any pity from him, not that he wanted it. But, Viktor had looked at him like he was just a fan, not a competitor, and asked if he wanted a photo? A fucking _photo_?

That’s when Yuuri decided that one way or another, he was going to get wasted. Yuuri remembered drinking maybe two or three or sixteen flutes of champagne, glaring at stupid Viktor and his stupid perfect face, and then absolutely nothing.

Fuck.

With the realization that he had likely blacked out, Yuuri began to realize that he was not in his own hotel room. The walls were too far away from the bed--the room was too big to be his. The warmth on his waist was likely a person’s arm, and Yuuri didn’t know whose arm it was, and he could try to look, but his glasses were missing and the room was still spinning, and suddenly Yuuri felt sick.

He doubled out of bed, past the naked upper body of a blurry person, only registering the silver hair on the body’s head as he bolted to the bathroom to throw up.

Now Yuuri was certain that he wasn’t in his hotel room, because this bathroom was luxurious, with a bath and a shower and sinks all outlined in gold trim. All of this, of course, he registered while he was throwing up, tears springing to his eyes as he realized that he probably did something ridiculously stupid last night, and maybe even unsafe.

He had a moment of reprise in his sickness, trying to catch his breath as his crying turned into sobs.

He jumped at the touch of a hand on his bare back. He turned around from his position by the toilet, only to be given his glasses. Yes! He didn’t lose them. He put them on, finally looking up at the silver blob from before.

“Yuuri, are you alright?” An accented voice was quiet, but recognizable.

Standing by the sink was one shirtless, messy, concerned looking Viktor Nikiforov. Yuuri’s mind was blank for one whole second before another wave of nausea hit him and he went back to the toilet to be sick.

“Oh dear,” Viktor murmured, as he put his hand on Yuuri’s shoulder again, trying to keep him upright as he gagged.

_God is punishing me, for losing the Grand Prix. He gave me Viktor for a night, and made me forget it._

Why was he so disappointed?

…

Viktor disappeared after a while, which was probably for the best, as Yuuri was certain he looked a mess and smelled even worse. He managed to crawl into the shower, and sit there long enough to feel like half a human again, albeit a dehydrated, sad one. When he emerged, there was a new bottle of aspirin on the sink, with a note in blocky handwriting instructing, “Drink me!”

Yuuri took the pills and wrapped himself in a big fluffy towel. He paused at the door to the bathroom. Was he just supposed to go outside? What was he going to say to _Viktor fucking Nikiforov_ of all people? _Thanks for taking care of my drunk ass? And also did we sleep together? Because it kind of looks like we slept together? Did you like it? Do you want to do it again now that I’m sober? Stop it, Yuuri, oh my god._

He pushed open the door, finding the still shirtless Viktor Nikiforov laying across the bed, scrolling through his phone. Viktor looked up at him.

“Are you feeling okay, Yuuri?” He said, sitting up.

“Y-yeah.” Yuuri felt himself say. “Thank you for the aspirin.” He let his head bow slightly, showing gratitude.

“I had to do something. I don’t get hangovers like that.” He pointed to himself. “I’m Russian.”

Yuuri felt his lips quirk up into a smile. “I guess I should g--”

“Get breakfast! With me?” Viktor interrupted, much to Yuuri’s surprise. “You should eat something, and I’m hungry.” He shrugged.

Yuuri was going to say he should go, but on cue his stomach grumbled, and Viktor laughed, but it was not like the laugh Yuuri had heard in countless interviews on YouTube. It was almost a giggle, like a little kid.

“That settles it. I’m getting room service.” Viktor said, and then, before Yuuri could protest, Viktor was on the hotel phone, ordering breakfast in Russian, and all Yuuri could do was watch, transfixed by Viktor’s mouth shaping words he didn’t understand, fascinated by the lower pitch of his voice when he spoke in his native language.

“Alright, breakfast is coming.” Viktor smiled triumphantly. “I am going to shower--you can change into some of my clothes if you want.”

He rifled through his suitcase, pulling out some sweatpants, and a black v-neck t-shirt. “They’ll probably be too big, but that’s okay. Here!” He said, and just like that, he was in the bathroom, and Yuuri was trying his darndest not to smell Viktor’s clothes.

(They smelled like soap, and pine forests, and something uniquely Viktor that Yuuri couldn’t describe.)

It was awkward. This whole thing was awkward. And somehow, Viktor wasn’t feeling awkward, which made it even more awkward. Like everyone was in on a joke except for him. Yuuri pulled on Viktor’s sweatpants, which he had to cuff a little bit so he didn’t trip on them. And Viktor’s t-shirt kept falling down over his shoulder, but it was soft and Yuuri let himself lay back on the bed he had slept in with Viktor Nikiforov and listened to someone who had won the Olympics _twice_ hum a tune that sounded a lot like the Spice Girls’ _“Spice Up Your Life”_ in the shower.

His phone was dead when he found it on the floor by his pants, so he looked around the nightstand for a charger until he found the one that Viktor must have used, and plugged it in to charge. He looked at the clock--it was nearing noon, which was a bad thing, because his flight was leaving at 12:15.

Yuuri felt laughter bubble up inside him, and he laughed out loud for the whole world to hear. Responsible, goody Katsuki Yuuri missed his flight back to Detroit. Celestino would be furious, and probably worried, and Yuuri...didn’t care. He felt lighter than he had in weeks. Preparing for his first ever Grand Prix had been so much pressure, and clearly he had cracked under it. He was allowed one day to not do what he was told, and if that was hanging out with Viktor Nikiforov, wearing his pants, and trying to figure out what happened between them the night before, then so be it.

“What’s so funny?” Speak of the devil, Viktor had emerged from the shower, toweling off his beautiful silver hair. He had changed into sweats himself, and Yuuri watched as he pulled a shirt over his strong back muscles.

“Um, I missed my flight? I guess it’s not that funny.” He looked down.

“It’s pretty funny.” Viktor said. “A couple of years ago, Worlds was in Paris, and I woke up in Brussels. At least you’re still in Russia.” He smiled.

Yuuri met his eyes as he sat on the bed next to him. “Sounds like a fun night.” He said, quietly.

Yuuri was sure he wasn’t imagining the faint tinge of red on Viktor’s cheeks.

“Well, I mean, last night was a lot better.” Viktor said, and Yuuri was about to respond when a knock on the door sounded out, followed by words that Viktor clearly interpreted as “Room Service,” because before Yuuri could get a word in there was a plate of food in front of him.

He really was hungry, so he ate the food that Viktor ordered, and listened to Viktor recount more stories about his poodle and Yakov and Chris’ routine focusing so much on his butt that they should just call it ass-skating.

In return, Yuuri talked about Phichit and Celestino, watching as Viktor carefully took every word in.

When they were just about done eating, Yuuri said something he’d always wanted to say.

“Viktor, your free skate routine was amazing.” He cringed a little bit saying it, because he didn’t want to sound like a desperate fan, but Viktor lit up.

“Thank you! I’m glad you think so.” His smile was a big, honest one.

“I think it was so well thought out, and beautiful, and--honest. I’ve--um--always been a fan of your style, but Stammi Vicino was just--this raw expression of feeling. I really liked watching it. I felt like I understood it, you know?”

And Viktor was not weirded out by that little rant in the slightest, because Yuuri found himself pulled into a hug, Viktor’s damp hair tickling his shoulder, and _god did he smell better than his dumb clothes._

The hug was over way too soon, but Viktor’s radiant smile more than made up for it. “I knew you would get it! I like the way that you skate too, Yuuri! Like you are the music, and it’s coming out of your body. It’s very powerful. Your short program was excellent.”

Hearing Viktor Nikiforov talk about his skating that way was borderline sexual, in case you were wondering.

But, Yuuri was reminded of the way he crashed and burned in the free program. He couldn’t meet Viktor’s eyes again. What was he even doing here, spending time with Yuuri? Yuuri was a loser, and he wouldn’t ever catch up to a person like Viktor.

A hand, tentative, reached out and lifted his chin, so that their eyes met. “Something changed, in between your Short Program and your Free Skate, Yuuri. You had a Short Program score worthy of the podium. You don’t have to tell me, but you can, if you want.” Viktor said, lowering his hand.

Yuuri felt his throat tighten, blinking away the urge to cry. “It’s...stupid. Before the Free Skate, my sister Mari called me. She told me that my dog had passed away that night. I haven’t been home in five years, so I never got to say goodbye or anything, and well, I loved that dog so much. He was my best friend for a long time, when I got home from rehearsals and training.”

Yuuri gauged Viktor’s reaction, wishing he hadn’t said so much. But Viktor looked sad, and his hands reached out for Yuuri’s.

“Oh Yuuri. That is the worst thing I could imagine. If my Makkachin had passed away, I wouldn’t have been able to compete at all! I’m sorry. What was the dog’s name?”

Yuuri felt his cheeks get hot. “Um, Viktor.”

“Yes?” He tilted his head.

“No. His name was Viktor. He was a poodle, like Makkachin.” Yuuri reached up to scratch at his neck, sheepish. “I was, um, a really big fan when I was a kid.”

Viktor’s face was redder than Yuuri had ever seen before. “That is so cute.” He whispered.

Yuuri didn’t know how to respond to that, relieved when his phone rang out, finally on and charged. He answered.

“Hello?”

“Yuuri? It’s Celestino. I’m on the layover in Moscow. What happened?”

“Hi Ciao ciao. I missed the flight. I woke up late. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not surprised, after yesterday. Look, just get back to Detroit as soon as possible, okay?”

“Okay, coach. Thank you.” He hung up.

“Was that Celestino?” Viktor asked.

“Yeah. I think he’s mad at me, but I can never tell.” Yuuri looked through his phone, surprised to see so many follow requests from his fellow skaters. 

“Why is he mad? Most of the sponsors had left before you started to strip.”

Yuuri dropped his phone. “I’m sorry, WHAT?” He asked (shrieked).

Viktor smiled. “Don’t be so shy now, Yuuri. Remember dancing, with the other Yuri, and Chris, and me?”

Yuuri’s whole world felt like it had been turned upside-down. “Um, no.”

Viktor blanched. “You don’t remember anything?”

“The last thing I remember was drinking some champagne, and then I woke up here.” He said, relieved that it was out in the open.

He sort of expected Viktor to laugh at him, but instead, the man looked horrified.

“What’s wrong? Did I do something bad?”

“Oh, no, Yuuri. You must think I’m horrible!” He moaned into his hands.

Yuuri was thoroughly confused. “Why would I think that?”

“Because you woke up here, after a night of drinking. You must think I took advantage of you!” The voice was muffled by his hands still.

Yuuri grabbed Viktor’s head up by the hair. “Did you?”

Viktor made a face like he had eaten something sour. “No! I’m not like that.”

Yuuri felt relief wash through him, happy that Viktor wouldn’t have taken advantage of him. He tried to ignore the teensy part of him that wished he had managed to sleep with him anyway.

Viktor pouted. “Why do you look disappointed? Do you know how hard that was with you being all hot and beautiful and gorgeous?” He made a vague gesture at Yuuri’s body.

 _Hot and beautiful and gorgeous? What?_ “Are we talking about the same Katsuki Yuuri?” He deadpanned, and Viktor seemed not to hear him, because he had calmed down a little bit and grabbed Yuuri’s hands again.

“Yuuri, I guess I could have been more well behaved though. Because we did kiss, um, a lot.” His face was a particularly adorable shade of crimson.

Yuuri’s hand reflexively went to touch his lips. “Oh.” He said, softly, and Viktor looked from his eyes to his lips and back, almost like he was considering doing it again. Yuuri could count the number of people he’d kissed on one hand, but apparently one of those people was Viktor Nikiforov, who’s just admitted to finding him hot and beautiful and gorgeous.

He suddenly understood the phrase ‘butterflies in your stomach,’ but that didn’t stop his confusion about the rest of the night.

“Okay. Viktor. I’m not mad at you. But I need you to tell me what happened last night, from the start of the banquet to this morning, okay?”

Viktor seemed relieved. He grabbed his phone from the bed, and opened up the Photo app. “I took a lot of pictures, thankfully.”

He continued. “Well, it was a normal banquet. Boring, sponsor, boring small talk, boring. And then later, I had managed to escape Yakov and the sponsors, and you were well, drunk. But I didn’t know that until you came up to me and yelled at me.”

“I yelled at you?” Yuuri was mortified.

“Well, you didn’t yell. You spoke quietly. But you were mad, because I asked you for a picture. I guess you thought I didn’t know who you were or something? Which I thought was funny because I wanted to take a picture with you so I could follow you on Instagram and Snapchat and stuff because you’re a very private guy and I was curious. Anyway, you yelled at me a little, but the only one who noticed was Yuri Plisetsky.

“So Yuri, Russian Yuri--wow that’s confusing. I’m going to call him Yurio. Yurio came up to you and said you had no business talking to winners--that kid needs to learn some manners if he wants to keep his sponsors, hmm?”

“I guess.” Yuuri said, as he watched Viktor think of what happened next.

“So you challenged him to a dance off, and won. Here are those pictures!” He gave Yuuri his phone.

Yuuri scrolled through countless photos of him dancing, shirt loose, looking like he was commanding the whole room. He swiped more, and saw pictures of him up close to Viktor’s phone.

“Ah, this is where you challenged me to a dance off. I don’t have the pictures of the real thing, but you were amazing! We stopped facing off and started to dance together. I think we did the tango.”

Yuuri snorted. He scrolled through more pictures, noting that he had lost his pants somewhere along the way. And then--oh no.

“That’s a pole, Viktor.”

Viktor smiled dreamily, and Yuuri could practically see the cartoon hearts in his eyes. “And these next photos document the best ten minutes of my entire life.”

Yuuri swiped in horror as he and Chris performed a series of acrobatic pole tricks. Yuuri fell back on the stupid soft, bouncy bed and groaned.

“No one is gonna believe me when I say I took pole fitness. It was a good core exercise.” He whined, and Viktor laughed as he laid back as well.

“I would like to take that class, _zvezda moya_.” Yuuri became rapidly aware of how close together they were.

“What else happened, Viktor?”

“Well, after that, most people had left. We danced a little more, and you asked me to coach you.”

“I did?” Yuuri was surprised--that’s not something he thought he wanted.

“Yes, and I considered it. I’ve been considering it.”

Yuuri’s eyes widened. “You want to leave the ice?” He could practically hear his heart breaking.

“I don’t know. Nothing seems exciting anymore.”

“So I had my one chance to compete with you, and I blew it.” Yuuri said, sullen.

“No, Yuuri. Nothing was exciting, but then I met you. You’re exciting, and beautiful, on ice and off it. Yesterday you went to that banquet in a horrible suit, got wasted, you yelled at me, and then you stole my heart, and I took you back here and we kissed until you fell asleep and I stayed up half the night trying to figure out a way to ask you out without looking like a lunatic--I’m not sure I succeeded.”

“Oh.” Yuuri said.

“I think I can stay on the ice another season or two if it means I can see you again, _zvezda_.” Viktor said, and Yuuri’s heart began to staple itself back together.

“Oh.” Yuuri said, again.

“Say something better than ‘oh?’”

“I wish I remembered kissing you.” Yuuri said, hand reaching out to touch Viktor’s lips, lightly, before recoiling like he touched fire.

Before Viktor could really respond their mouths had found each other like magnets. They crashed together, and it wasn’t gentle, but it was perfect. Yuuri felt a fire he had never felt before grow stronger and hotter within him with each press of Viktor’s lips to his. It was almost instinctive to roll over onto his back and pull Viktor on top of him, to part his lips and let him in, to become absolutely dizzy as Viktor stole all his breath away.

They parted for air, Yuuri feeling his hands grip at his strong back muscles as Viktor moved down to kiss and suck at his neck. Yuuri felt himself moan, heard the answering groan come from Viktor’s mouth, still sucking marks into his neck.

“I’ve wanted to do this to you since I saw you in my clothes.” Viktor admitted, licking a line up his collection of love bites to Yuuri’s lips again, kiss absolutely wicked with desire.

When they broke the kiss, Yuuri had ended up on top of him, straddling his thighs. “Do you _like_ seeing me in your clothes?” He asked, not knowing what he was doing at all. Yuuri simply observed the beautiful body underneath his, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, blue eyes darkened with lust, but also something else that Yuuri couldn’t place.

Viktor sat up, meeting him upright to speak in his ear. “Yes, but I’d rather see you in no clothes.” His breath was hot, and Yuuri felt himself shiver from the implications. The sudden movement bringing them closer had made their erections brush together, and they both made sounds that were rather needy. Oh god. They were doing this. They were going to do this. They were going to--

“Yuuri?” Viktor’s voice was clearer, louder. “You look nervous all of a sudden. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” He shifted, trying to create some distance between them.

“N-no. I really want to. I just--um--I don’t have a lot of experience with this sort of thing. I’ve been going off of instinct so far.” He flushed to the tips of his ears.

Viktor’s eyebrows raised up. “If _that_ was your instinct, I think you’ll be fine. Are you sure, though?” He said, hands stroking Yuuri’s cheekbones.

Yuuri swallowed. Viktor was a really nice person, holding back for him twice now. A lesser man wouldn’t even think to check if he was okay. Yuuri felt a wave of affection course through him, and his anxieties, for the moment, vanished.

Here was Viktor, much more than just Viktor Nikiforov™, the famous skater. He was a nice person, who liked how Yuuri skated, and thought that Yuuri was _gorgeous_ and got him breakfast and aspirin and made Yuuri feel like less of a loser.

He had already stolen his heart, so why not his virginity as well?

Yuuri pulled Viktor’s shirt off of himself in one fluid movement.

“I’d like you to give me a day _and a night_ I’ll never forget, Viktor.” Yuuri felt the words roll from his lips, and watched as blotches of red decorated pale cheeks yet again.

“ _Bozhe moi_ ,” Viktor murmured, and Yuuri had no idea what that meant, but he still delighted in watching Viktor scramble out from under him, and without any of his usual grace, fall off the bed in his haste to retrieve something from his suitcase.

He returned triumphantly with a tube of something that must be lube and a box that had to be condoms, dropping them on the sheets as he all but pounced onto Yuuri again. Somehow, he had lost his shirt as well, and Yuuri moaned into his kisses at the slide of skin on skin. Everything was more urgent this time, kisses sloppier with need, and this time, when Viktor descended down his neck, he continued down past collarbones, pausing to lick at Yuuri’s nipples, down, down, to the sensitive skin of his abdomen where Viktor’s too big sweatpants hung low on his hips.

“Can I?” Viktor asked, and Yuuri could only nod his approval. Viktor slid the pants down easily to his knees, revealing Yuuri’s hard cock.

He traced a finger over it, exclaiming a quiet “Woooow,” as he watched it twitch in response.

“Viktor,” Yuuri whined, desperate.

“Yes?” He replied, giving a light, tentative stroke, grin impish.

“You’re teasing.” Yuuri hissed as his thumb traced the slit at the head.

“Mmm. I suppose you’re right.” He said, mischievously, before swallowing him whole.

The next words that came out of Yuuri’s mouth were all words that would make his mother cry. He wasn’t quite sure what language he was speaking, but Viktor hummed at the dirty praises the spilled from his mouth. Yuuri’s hips jerked up into the wet warmth, but Viktor held him still, going deeper, taking Yuuri all the way to his base and humming around it.

The moans were spilling out of him pleasure building like nothing he’d ever felt. He gripped Viktor’s soft, beautiful hair, and felt him moan around him, doing amazing things with his tongue all over his shaft.

Yuuri vaguely heard the pop of a cap, and jerked back at the cool touch of fingers searching out his hole. Viktor came up for air.

“Relax, okay?” His voice was raspy.

“Yeah, okay.” Yuuri laid back as Viktor’s tongue lapped at the head of his cock, and his finger made its way inside of him. Yuuri was more used to this sensation than he’d like to admit. Sometimes, when he had a hard time getting off, his fingers inside of him were the only thing that did it, so relaxing around Viktor’s finger was practically second nature, and soon, a second finger was joining the first, scissoring him open.

Viktor grabbed a pillow to put under his hips, and then the fingers returned increasing their pace and changing their angle, searching and searching for--

“Ah!” He added the third finger then, aiming for his prostate over and over. Yuuri was lost in pleasure, as Viktor fingered him for longer than he needed to, feeling his orgasm build momentum.

“Viktor, I need more,” Yuuri cried out, desperate for the feeling of the real thing, something he’d only ever imagined.

Yuuri watched as Viktor withdrew his fingers, and he felt his hole clench around nothing. Viktor’s cock was hard and leaking as he pulled down his sweatpants, and Yuuri took it in as Viktor searched for the condom.

He was big. A part of Yuuri not consumed by lust thought that of course a man as perfect as Viktor would have a perfect cock. It was fairly long, and thick, and Yuuri had never given much thought to size before, but the idea of that cock inside him had him spreading his legs wider instinctively.

Viktor had managed to find the condom in the tangle of sheets, and was sliding it onto his cock, hissing at the feeling of contact after neglecting it for so long. He lubed it up quickly, and came back to Yuuri, kissing him on the lips one time before he pushed it in.

Yuuri’s eyes went wide before he screwed them shut, mouth dropping open at the feeling of inches and inches of Viktor’s cock slowly spreading him open. He felt so full, and he was still going, moving past where the fingers had stretched him. Everything was tingly, and when Viktor bottomed out Yuuri felt his toes curling in pleasure.

He blinked his eyes open.

“Are you alright?” Viktor asked, voice husky. One hand braced him over Yuuri, and one gripped his hipbone firmly. Yuuri hoped he left bruises.

“Uh huh,” Yuuri responded, and he pulled Viktor down to meet his lips. Their kiss was accompanied by a wicked roll of Viktor’s hips, and Yuuri keened, and just like that they were lost to pleasure. Viktor thrusted deeply, with an athleticism only an olympian could possess, and he reduced Yuuri to a series of gasps and Viktor’s name. Yuuri’s legs wrapped around Viktor in an impressive display of flexibility, allowing him to go deeper, and harder. They were not so much kissing as breathing into each other’s mouths, and their moans grew in intensity to match their pace, which had grown faster and faster. Yuuri felt his fingernails rake lines across Viktor’s back, and Viktor keened at the pleasure-pain of it, leaning down to worry Yuuri’s bottom lip.

Yuuri felt his orgasm building and building with every drag of that big cock in him, and he registered the touch of a hand on his own cock, weeping with every stroke.

It was too much. “Viktor! I’m so close,” He panted, and felt Viktor pulse inside of him.

“Me too. Come for me, _zvezda moya_.” And just like that, Yuuri was gone. He came in long lines across his own stomach and Viktor’s, and Viktor moaned rather loudly as he followed, emptying into the condom as Yuuri pulsed around him.

When Viktor couldn’t support his weight anymore, he made sure to fall to Yuuri’s side on the bed. The lay there, panting, trying to catch their breath as they came down from the high of it all.

“Wooow,” Viktor breathed out, flopping closer to Yuuri in an attempt to cuddle. He snuggled in close, not caring much about the mess in between them.

“Yeah,” Said Yuuri, whose eyes were beginning to close.

Before they knew it, they had fallen asleep in each other’s arms.

…

When Yuuri woke up, he was not looking at the ceiling. Instead, his face was buried into soft silver hair, and there was a pleasant soreness in his back. He looked at the clock, surprised it had read 6:00 PM. They had slept (in more ways that one) the afternoon away.

He kissed the top of Viktor’s sex mussed hair, and watched him wake up, blinking, meeting Yuuri’s eyes, and smiling.

Viktor yawned once before speaking. “You know, we should probably go outside today before people start to wonder if we’re dead.”

Yuuri made a sound of approval, content to stay in bed with Viktor all night.

“Have dinner with me?” Viktor asked, pushing Yuuri’s hair out of his face.

“Like, in a restaurant?” Yuuri wondered out loud.

“Yes! I can make reservations, and it’ll be a date.” Viktor smiled.

A date? Viktor wanted to date him? _Katsuki Yuuri?_ Viktor must have saw the way Yuuri’s brow furrowed, because he continued.

“I know we did things a little backwards, but I’m a great date, I promise. I know I can be a bit much, but I’d be the best boyfriend ever, I swear, and--” He babbled, trying to convince Yuuri to date him while naked in his bed.

 _Boyfriend?!_ Yuuri remembered what Viktor had said earlier about after the banquet, and he realized that Viktor had maybe been trying to date him all this time. Viktor, for some reason, really did like him.

He was still babbling, so Yuuri kissed him. “You don’t need to convince me, Viktor.”

“Oh.” Viktor said, touching his lips again. “I’ll make reservations for 8.” He went to the phone again, and Yuuri listened to his voice speaking Russian again.

“Okay. Do you have another suit?” Viktor said, glancing at Yuuri’s crumpled up suit from the night before, on the floor.

“I think so. It’s in my room.” Yuuri fished around in his suit pants from the night before and pulled out his hotel key card.

“Well, we should shower first, don’t you think?” Viktor gestured to their bodies, still very much smelling of sex.

“Oh yeah,” Yuuri realized, embarrassed. “Well, go ahead.” He sat on the bed.

Viktor raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you want to come with me, Yuuri?” He said, blinking, the picture of fake innocence.

“I-I can do that.” Yuuri said, standing up, and walking to the bathroom, not missing how Viktor grabbed the bottle of lube from the bed.

The shower water was warm, and he let Viktor wash his hair with Viktor’s expensive smelling shampoo. Viktor brought Yuuri’s hands up to do the same to Viktor’s hair, Yuuri still in awe over how soft it was.

They spent a few moments on their own cleaning off dried lube and come, Yuuri wanting to be rid of the sticky sensation between his legs. After that, Viktor insisted on washing him.

Viktor’s hands lathered him up with soap, tracing over all the planes of Yuuri’s body. The soap was lathered down his abs, and over his hipbones, and Viktor’s hand moved slowly over his cock, which was beginning to harden again just from being so close to Viktor’s naked body.

Yuuri wasn’t the only one affected by their closeness, as he felt Viktor’s erection poking at his behind as he washed the soap off his body. Yuuri backed up instinctively, allowing Viktor’s cock to slide in between his cheeks, shivering as it caught on his rim every time he rocked back.

“Mmm, Yuuri,” Viktor moaned, voice hot in his ear.

“Viktor, fuck me again, I want you.” Yuuri rasped out, shocked at the words leaving his own mouth. They were words he’d only said in his wildest dreams.

“ _Bozhe_ , Yuuri, I shouldn’t.” He said, tense.

“Why?” Yuuri was bad, grinding his ass into him like that.

“I left the condoms on the bed.” Oh, was that all? Yuuri knew he shouldn’t, but he had wanted it for so long, and he was going to get it.

“I don’t care, Viktor. Come in me. I want you to.”

Viktor swore, and then Yuuri heard the lube being opened and slicked onto Viktor’s cock, and within seconds it was splitting him open again.

“F-Feels so much bigger like this,” Yuuri cried out, hands bracing himself on the wall. He pushed back against Viktor, who was slowly rolling his hips into Yuuri.

“Do you like it?” He said, into his ear.

“Yes! Oh, God, do it harder.” Yuuri moaned at the feeling of hands gripping his hips, and his cock beginning to thrust in firmer motions.

Viktor’s hands left his hips to knead at the flesh of his ass, holding his cheeks apart to see where he disappeared into Yuuri. He must have been getting quite a show, judging by the way his hips began to jerk erratically.

“You have the most perfect ass, Yuuri. So good for me,” He babbled, lost in pleasure. Yuuri preened at the praise, really shoving back to meet his thrusts now.

“I’m sorry, _fuck_ , I can’t--” Viktor moaned out as the movement of his hips lost all rhythm, and he jerked forward once, twice, and came, hard, into his ass.

Yuuri shivered at the feeling of his warm come spreading inside him. He could feel Viktor pulsing still. Eventually, he began to soften, so he pulled out. Yuuri could feel it start to slowly drip out of him. He was still very much hard, and he stroked himself slowly as Viktor sank to his knees.

He wasn’t sure what to say, but Viktor saved them an awkward conversation by promptly burying his face in Yuuri’s ass. Yuuri cried out at the first touch of a tongue on his hole, gasping for air as it made its way inside him, and Viktor licked his own come out of Yuuri’s ass. If Yuuri’s road to orgasm had calmed down before, it was back and stronger than ever as Viktor’s tongue continued to piston in and out of him, making him feel weak in the knees.

Yuuri’s hand stroked himself fast in sync with Viktor’s tongue, and before he knew it, he had coated the wall with his spend, and had joined Viktor on his knees.

…

They made it out of the shower, Yuuri walking on shaky fawn’s legs until he hit the bed, which he fell face down on.

“Yuuri, are you okay?” Viktor said, half-laughing.

“Ask me again later,” Yuuri moaned into the pillow. He was lightheaded, and in disbelief that Viktor had eaten his ass into the fucking nth dimension.

Viktor had gotten into a perfect gray suit, one that screamed “Armani,” and when he tried to rouse Yuuri, he was still pretty unsuccessful.

“I have an idea, Yuuri. I will go get your clothes for you!” Viktor said, and Yuuri mumbled out “411,” for Viktor, who was out the door with a telltale spring in his step.

Yuuri took the moments alone to wrap himself up in a blanket, and browse through his phone. He accepted several follow requests, and followed many people back on his various social media accounts.

He answered a text from Phichit, confirming that he is not dead and will tell him everything later, and to tell Ciao Ciao that he’d be flying out tomorrow.

And then the door opened, and Yuuri said, “That was fast, Viktor,” without looking up.

Which would’ve been fine, if it wasn’t Yakov Feltsman who walked through the door.

“Katsuki.” He said, expression stoic. “Where’s Vitya?”

“Um. He stepped out for a moment.” Yuuri was eternally glad he had wrapped himself in blankets.

“Make sure he’s on his flight tomorrow.” Yakov half-glared, and walked out the door, only to practically collide with Viktor.

“Hi Yakov!” Viktor said, cheerfully holding a garment bag. Yakov and him seemed to have a silent conversation before Yakov stomped away.

“Yuuri I found your clothes. And the suit will have to do, but this tie is unacceptable!” Yuuri changed swiftly into his suit, letting Viktor tie one of his own silk ones around his collar.

“About Yakov,”

“What about Yakov? He’ll live--I’m an adult and I can make my own choices.” Viktor said, brushing his hair into the perfect swoop.

“I guess you’re right.” Yuuri said, trying to adjust his own clothes in the mirror. Thankfully, most of the love bites were covered up by his collar.

He picked up his phone, and followed Viktor out the door.

…

Viktor held his hand all throughout dinner. Yuuri thought it was endearing, especially because it was entertaining to see Viktor try and eat everything with one hand. He was a little stubborn that way.

Yuuri found himself laughing and smiling more than he had in awhile. He knew that there were people watching them, looking to see who was dining with the great Viktor Nikiforov, but Yuuri was at relative ease.

_Let them look. I am the one who got to touch._

After half an hour, Yuuri had to turn his phone off, so it would stop vibrating. According to Phichit, someone had put a photo of them on Instagram.

Yuuri told Viktor about it, and he finally let go of his hand to, “take a better picture of us, Yuuri,” and he captioned it with several heart emojis.

…

After dinner, Yuuri had gained approximately 10,000 Instagram Followers. Not that he cared, but Phichit would have a field day with this.

He followed Viktor up to his room again, which was about 20 floors higher than his, and changed back into Viktor’s sweatpants, and by 11:00 they had fallen asleep in each other’s arms.

…

They woke up early, because Yuuri and Viktor both had to get to the airport.

Yuuri had to go collect his suitcase from his abandoned room, and dressed in his normal clothes for the first time in two days. Viktor was stylish and comfortable, as usual, and the taxi they shared to the airport was quiet with the silence of two people with a lot to say.

Viktor had spent the entire taxi ride imputing his phone number, his Skype username, his snapchat, and more into Yuuri’s Phone. Yuuri had sheepishly given the same information to Viktor.

And when they arrived at the airport, they spent the remaining twenty minutes to boarding for Yuuri’s flight sitting as close together as publically acceptable.

“So, you’ll call me, every day.” Viktor was saying, _again_ , like Yuuri was the one who would ghost him out of a relationship.

“Yes. And you’ll text me when you can, and we’ll Skype at least once a week.” Yuuri said, reassuring.

“Good. I’m going to miss you, _zvezda moya_.”

“What does that mean?” Yuuri asked, not wanting to say goodbye.

“My star. Because everything was dark until I saw you, and you lit up my life.” Viktor said, quiet.

“Oh,” Yuuri said, and he let himself be pulled into a hug.

“You’re going to do so great at Nationals, _zvezda_. And then the Four Continents--you’re going to win. Win it all so I can see you again soon, okay?” Viktor hugged him tighter.

“Okay. I will. I’ll see you soon, Viktor.” They shared a chaste kiss in the Sochi airport, before Yuuri was called to board, and before he knew it, he was flying back to Detroit.

…

Phichit picked him up from the airport.

“You have so much explaining to do, Mister Katsuki.” He tapped his foot onto the ground, impatiently.

“You only call me that when you’re mad, Phichit.” Yuuri said, almost falling down from the hug he was enveloped in.

“Mad! Are you kidding me? I’m so proud of you! Do you know how many followers you got? And you were hanging out with Viktor Nikiforov--your idol, the maybe love of your young life--”

“About that…” Yuuri said sheepish. He didn’t want to come out and say it.

“What?” Phichit grew suspicious.

“Me and Viktor, um, well, there was more than hanging out.” Yuuri said, quickly.

“WHAT!” Phichit roared, startling the poor people in the baggage claim.

Yuuri laughed nervously.

Phichit continued. “On a scale from 0 to 1, how much of a virgin are you right now?”

Yuuri rolled his eyes at the very Phichit way he asked that.

He leaned in close to whisper, “Zero,” pretty much just to watch his best friend freak out.

“Oh my god, oh my god. Can I tweet about this?” Phichit asked, phone already out.

“No! It’s not a big deal! It was only a couple of times.” Yuuri said, shrugging it off.

“IT HAPPENED MORE THAN ONCE?!” Phichit said, sitting down on the thankfully empty baggage lane.

“Actually, I think we’re dating now, Phichit. I’m under strict orders to call him every day.” Yuuri said, satisfied that he told at least one person.

Phichit stood up and hugged him again. “I’m so proud of you, Yuuri. You’re living your dreams now. You should tell your mom.”

“Ugh, Phichit, I’m not gonna tell my mom I had sex with Viktor Nikiforov.” He picked up his bag, and they walked to the parking lot.

“Aww Yuuri, I think she’d congratulate you. You’re doing who you’ve always wanted to.”

“I...can’t tell if that’s a good thing or not. Now, let’s go home. I need to practice.”

He turned his phone on, immediately receiving a text from Viktor:

_Miss you already <3 <3_

“Now?” Phichit asked.

“Yeah. When I get to the Worlds, I’m gonna give my new boyfriend a run for his money.”

 

 

FIN. 

**Author's Note:**

> "I think that possibly, maybe I'm falling for you  
> Yes there's a chance that I've fallen quite hard over you.  
> I've seen the waters that make your eyes shine  
> Now I'm shining too  
> Because oh because  
> I've fallen quite hard over you."  
> -Falling in Love (in a coffee shop), by Landon Pigg


End file.
